Once Upon a Memory, Twice Upon a Future
by hbananad
Summary: While cleaning, Poland stumbles on a memory from when he and LIthuania lived together. The past is to be left behind, the present is to improve. The future will be for them. Pol/Liet, cute and hopeful.


I'm not actually sure what inspired me to write this. I am, however, having great fun basing everything I write for Poland and Lithuania off of my dear Poland and myself.

... I sounded like a total creep when I asked her what her sleeping habits were, but there you have it.

***#Once Upon a Memory, Twice Upon a Future#***

Poland sighed as he opened the doors to the closet.

He hated cleaning (even if he _did_ look fabulous in an apron thankyouverymuch), but when you were a Nation, stuff tended to accumulate over the centuries. It was the reason they all tended to have such huge houses, even if they (now) lived alone.

And it was a fact of life that there were only so many reminders you could keep to yourself. Yes, they all thad their treasures that they would never-ever-ever share - things that were believed to be lost (_The Italies in particular had several dozen artworks hanging in their homes or shoved into storage and forgotten that people from all over were desperate to find_), things that had supposedly never existed (_Greece still held on to at least two dozen artifacts of myth that his mother had left in his care_), things that no human was sure of the authenticity of (_The bullet that had sounded the beginning of the American revolution was tucked away in the aforementioned nation's desk drawer, a small reminder of a huge event_) . . . even things that the governments and museums would swear to the heavens and back resided safely with them (_The fifth copy of the Magna Carta, for example, was carefully preserved in an air-tight frame and was currently hanging on the wall of England's sitting room, above the rather outdated couch, whereas the British government would be quick to assure you that there were only four copies remaining_).

But there came a point where the history had to be shared with new generations. Sometimes they merely gave copies. Sometimes pieces of their hearts. But what was one suit of armor to a slightly different one from the decade following, when the first was too warn to cary them through another battle? Nations kept things for the memories, but the people too had a sort of living memory, passed on through stories, that needed something concrete to connect it to in this day and age, when the past seemed so far away.

He had been avoiding this particular closet for centuries, however, and Poland dreaded to think of the dust that must have amassed over the years. This was a closet from long, long ago, back when he and Lithuania were still young and happily married. Until recently, with the World Wars **finally **over and everything **finally** starting to work itself out for the once-a-pair, he wasn't sure he would have been able to bear even glancing at it's contents.

But now... now the blond was almost certain that they could be together again - that Liet still felt much the same as he did. And maybe... maybe he just needed a glimpse of what once was to find the courage and ask if they could have it again.

Taking a deep breath, Poland took the first box off the shelf and opened it. Most of the contents were boring - just old clothing and a quilt they had received from someone ages and ages ago. But nestled in the folds of ancient fabric was something that caused him to inhale sharply and rock back on his heels in surprise.

A doll, clothed in green, with brilliantly emerald-colored eyes embroidered into a blank - but still somehow smiling - face. The faded yellow yarn that served it for hair was styled remarkably similarly to Poland's own, and the whole doll seemed squished and squeezed and generally loved.

Poland remembered this doll. He remembered the darker brown spot on it's back, where he had pricked himself with the needle for the thousandth time - even though it was the only time he failed to keep the blood from the fabric. He remembered Liet's face when he had presented his handiwork, a mixture of shock and fascination and - as realization of exactly what and why the gift had been given dawned - love and thankfulness. He remembered the quiet chuckle as the state of his hands had been revealed, and the gentle kisses laid on each finger in apology for the wounds sustained.

He remembered the reason.

_Lithuania had always been a fairly peaceful sleeper - a sight away from Poland himself, who moved around __**constantly **__during the night. In fact, the differences between their sleeping habits were almost comical - Poland fell asleep early and with any amount of noise, light, and general chaos in the background (so long as he was comfortable), and while he would respond to people who talked to him, it never made sense; Lithuania, however, tended to stay up late and could sleep through anything once he was out, needed quiet or music to fall asleep (people talking could keep him up for hours) but could sleep on almost any surface or chair. _

_The only thing they had in common was an unfortunate tendency to steal the covers._

_But there was apparently another aspect to the soft-spoken nation's sleeping habits that Poland only found out several years into their friendship and later relationship, when he had to stay out far later than usual - a trial for all involved, as he became less cheerful and coherent the later the hour - and actually arrived home after Lithuania had gone to bed._

_This had never happened before in this order, though the blond often half-awoke when the other slipped under the covers after staying up to finish a letter or a chapter in a book. It was It was intriguing. Poland often had the opportunity to watch his partner sleep in the morning hours, since Lithuania was certainly not one for waking up, and logically the opposite must have happened in the evening. But for years he had gone to bed first, and now he could notice something: Lithuania did not sleep well without someone else in the room and/or without he was cuddling something._

_It was odd and strangely charming, but also something of a concern to Poland. He knew that he had left the other alone several times overnight - or even over several days - during various meetings and diplomatic trips that didn't require the both of them. The opposite happened too, of course, and Poland spent time alone at home as well. But now he realized the reason behind why Liet always looked a little more tired after this time apart, and was concerned about what he could do about it._

_A few days after the discovery, he quietly found some scraps of fabric and started crafting the doll._

Sitting in the hallway, holding the small doll, Poland couldn't help but wonder how _he _had ended up with it. It was for Lithuania, after all - it had been his from the moment the first stitch had been made. But somehow, this small relic of their past had wound up in _his _closet, not Liet's.

And for some reason, that made him feel inexplicably guilty. Like he had been denying the other a decent night's sleep for centuries, like somehow this oversight of his - when he failed to give the doll over, failed to remember Lithuania's sleeping problems, failed to find it sooner - was a kind of betrayal.

He stared at the doll, cleaning forgotten, lost in memories and thought, before standing slowly and walking out the door as the sun set and day became night.

A short time later found him standing over Lithuania's bed. He had let himself in with the spare key (hidden in the gutter over the kitchen window, something he had known about for years but never used), and was presently realizing that he was being really, _really _creepy.

As Poland had expected, the brunet was more restless than he remembered, blankets tangled around his feet and pillow shoved across to the other, empty side of the bed.

He could join him. It would be so easy, to slip into bed in that empty side, as they had done for years. But at the same time as it would be a comfort, it would also cause unnecessary pain. Yes, he would probably wake up before Lithuania, and yes, he could sneak out. But that was somehow even worse.

In the end, Poland drew up the covers around a past love, tucked the doll gently into his arms, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and walked away.

The past was something they left behind, in closets and museums. The present was too confusing - there was too much to fix in too little time.

The future, though, was something they could look forward to, the goal of all nations - for their children, for the next generations, to have a better life.

As the door to the bedroom clicked softly shut behind Poland, Lithuania smiled in his sleep and cuddled the doll to his chest.

The future would be for them.


End file.
